Hands
by NeoTroi79
Summary: Olivia showed up at the appointed time. The note had smelled of lavender. Femslash. Oneshot. I dare you to give it a try.


(A/N thanks to all your help, I have found some more lemons. This one is inspired by Sandy and the Bitkahs and their fanfiction pet peeves. More specifically it is on their "Excessive use of disembodied parts." So I decided to make a oneshot in which there are as many disembodied parts as possible, and make it work. Sort of a literary challenge on my part. Their site is in my profile, its rather amazing. So anyway, this story was done without my wonderful, amazing beta, OmniStrife, so forgive me if there is an extra semicolon...or a vague pronoun. Ok there are alot of vague pronouns, but thats the point.

Disclaimer: their not mine. it doesn't take a detective to figurethat oneout.

"Unless the entire point of the scene is, we don't know whose gripping Mulder..." the line that inspired it all.)

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Olivia showed up at the appointed time. The note had smelled of lavender. She looked around at the empty parking lot. A dim flood light cast long shadows of trash cans. 

_Saturday. Midnight. Come alone._

She shuffled her feet, trying to remain calm. Her hand fingered the holster on her hip. She looked up at the full moon looming over the city. Folding her arms, just to change the air around her, she wondered if she had been set up.

_I have valuable information for you. _

Attentive to the darkness, she listened to the night, trying to weed out the background New York noise from anything that may be pertinent to her coming visitor.

_Behind the Macarthur building._

Red light district wasn't too far, maybe it was a prostitute, afraid of being seen at the precinct. A loud clang sounded behind her. She spun, hand halfway to her gun. A cat sprang out of the darkness. It rushed past her. Trying to relax, she glanced at her watch, 12:23.

A late informant wasn't anything new. The person was probably watching, making sure that she didn't communicate with anyone. The note had smelled of lavender and honeysuckle.

_Come alone._

I'm alone, she wanted to call out. She could feel the silence closing in on her. Trying to stay alert, she walked a few steps to the left, then back again. Where were they, she wondered.

_Those who love you depend on it._

This was stupid. She never should have gone alone. She should have had backup, with a comforting earwig in her ear, attaching her to the rest of the team. They were a team.

_Those who love you._

Is that who they meant? She doubted it, the team can take care of itself, she reasoned. It was probably a scare tactic. Why would an informant need a scare tactic? Something was defiantly not right.

_Valuable Information._

The note smelled of lavender, honeysuckle, and vanilla.

_Come alone. Midnight._

She heard a distinct shuffle behind her. She turned and moved towards the sound. Two hands grabbed her arms from behind; a blindfold was yanked across her eyes. She heard the metallic click of handcuffs, they tightened on her wrists. She tensed to defend herself. "Stop! Let me go!" Her own voice startled her.

She heard a car pull up. Violently pushed forward, the cold metal hit her skin. Hands maneuvered her into the car. Bodies moved in around to her. She was thrown back as the car sped away.

She tried to speak again. A hand clamped on her mouth, a woman's hand.

Another hand stroked her neck. She could feel hot breath near her ear. An indistinguishable whisper, "Relax, Detective."

Soft chuckles rippled through the car.

The car stopped. Hands and arms directed her. She heard a lock opening. She heard New York's sounds.

Maneuvered through a hallway into a room, the door closed behind her. Hands pushed her, she fought to stay standing.

A slender leg wrapped around her knees. It swept her feet out from under her. Landing with a grunt, she was disoriented. "What is going on?"

Four hands held her arms. Her wrists became free; her leather jacket was yanked off.

A soft murmur, "Any concealed weapons, Detective?"

Her wrists were pulled above her, through a set of metal bars, a silk knot held her hands there. The metal was cold. She yanked on it. It clenched around her wrists. Hopeless.

She tried again, "What do you want?"

She could hear smiles.

Weight on her legs. A pair of long hands roamed up and down her torso. Her gun and holster disappeared, so did her badge. Warm fingertips on her stomach, pushing up her shirt. More hands took off her shoes. Her socks. She opened her mouth to talk.

A hand gently covered the opening. Hot breath on her ear, a low voice, "I would advise against speaking, Detective."

Hands on her shirt, playing on the collar. Fingernails on her neck. Soft hum of voices. Cloth dropping to the floor. Bodies moved around her.

Fingertips padded along the hem of her jeans.

She heard scissors. She tensed. Voices giggled softly.

A loud violent rip.

Her shirt was in pieces. She shivered at the cold air. Hot skin touched the length of her torso, a naked body. Hands played at her sternum.

She gasped. Her bra straps were cut. They snapped, hitting her shoulders. It stung her.

Hands grasped her thighs. Cold fingers slipped under her lower back, sending chills up her spine. The fingertips moved up her back. She arched at the touch. Her bra was loosened. It disappeared.

Cold. She gasped. It was cold. She felt warm lips on her collarbone, a slick tongue on her flesh. Hands were on her stomach. Fingertips danced on the sensitive underside of her arms.

Soft caresses. Sharp fingernails across the delicate bud of her left breast. She gasped. Her back arched. Her pants were open. Lips on her delta, she could feel them through the cotton.

Hot, wet breath on her right breast. Lips closed around the tip. A tongue flicked in and out. She panted, her tongue wet her lips.

Fingertips left her breast and ran along her lip line. Tingling. They wet themselves with her hot saliva and asked for entrance.

She took them. They slid in and out, dueling with her tongue. They explored every crevice of her mouth.

A voice sighed in pleasure. A woman's voice.

Lips on her pelvic bone. Hands cradling her lower back. Slow circles of a tongue.

Teeth scraped at the base of her breast. She shuttered. Then suction came. Hard and fast. She squirmed, held firm by the weight on her legs. A moan escaped her. She felt the blood rushing to her rib cage.

A sweet spot formed. A tongue licked at the tender skin. Soft again.

Lips captured her own. Yielding skin pressed into her mouth. A hand snaked along her jaw line.

Fingertips circled areoles, pinching and rolling. She gasped into the mouth on hers. A hand roughly massaged her sternum.

The weight on her legs disappeared. Her jeans were pulled off. Fingernails ran up her legs, slow, deliberate.

Lips left hers. She whimpered at the loss. Another pair of lips ran along her collar bone. A kiss on her forehead. Then hands on her stomach. Weight on her rib cage, a slick swollen tongue swirled around her navel.

Velvety kisses on her thigh. She could feel the cotton wet and cold between her legs.

The lips on her collar moved to her mouth. Another kiss. Different. Demanding.

There was movement around her. Hands left her thighs and a weight moved onto her left leg. Wetness covered her leg. Thighs clamped around her own. Hot wetness. A slow gyration, up and down, along her leg. Covered in sticky liquid.

Her heard a soft moan.

Touches along her hips, playing at the edge of her last piece of clothing. A hand slipped underneath, into the hot damp curls of her center. Pressing, but not advancing, stroking the outer lips.

A moan left her. Lips on her mouth moved to cover her face in tiny kisses, fleeting, unpredictable, sweet kisses.

Nails on her inner thighs, gentle, dancing. Faint murmurs. Movement. The weight left her leg. Hands, nails, slipped off the last offending piece of cloth.

An arm slipped around her right leg. Hands pushed up and out, her lips spread; she shivered at the cool air surrounding her center.

A leg across her stomach. Wetness on her side. A head on her shoulder. A tongue soothingly circled her earlobe.

A hand grabbed one mound on her chest, roughly massaging. A mouth playing at the pulse point on her neck.

Long nails scraped the dripping entrance to her center. She was filled.

Two fingers. In and out. Faster. Faster. Rapid. The flick of a tongue on the bundle of nerves above her entrance.

Faster. Sharper.

Suction on her collar.

Bite on her ear.

_Faster._

Stimuli melted together. Sweat. Movement. Focus. She shook uncontrollably. Sweat poured a thick blanket on her form. Hands on her squeezed.

Light exploded from the darkness, heat and pleasure radiated from her. She couldn't feel her body. Heavenly. An eternity within the light.

She heard her breath again. Desperately ragged. Her muscles numb. Hands on her body.

Fingertips tenderly stroked. Everywhere.

Three kisses. One on each cheek, one on her navel. Voices, hoarse whispers, "I love you." They said.

Her breathe coming in short gasps. Her body heaved with the panting. Limbs refused to follow commands.

She heard them moving. Hands worked quickly. Her wrists were freed, only to be clapped back in handcuffs. A sheet covered her slick body. Arms lifted her.

She was back in a car, lying across the back seat. She thought about speaking. A hand played on her forehead, fingernails gently scraping the skin.

The car stopped. The sheet still wrapped around her, she was guided into another car. She heard her clothes, keys and gun drop beside her and handcuff keys appeared in her hand. The door closed. She heard the first car pealed away.

Slowly, but without trouble, she freed herself from the cuffs, she shakily took off the blindfold. Her own car. Olivia sat up, her brain rushing.

An envelope was laid on her front seat. She opened it. A calling card in calligraphy.

_A.C. C.N. A.C._

It smelled of lavender, honeysuckle and vanilla.

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:grins:

So...please review! Look! It's tht button right down there. Click it! You know you want to. Reviews make me feel warm and fuzzy inside. And you know I can't buy anymore lemons without reviews!


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